


she hid around corners and she hid under beds

by their_dark_materials



Category: Emmerdale, Roblivion - Fandom, robron
Genre: Almost Dog Owner Aaron Dingle, Canon Compliant, Deleted Scenes, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Missing Scene, Post Reunion 2018, Post-Canon, Reunion Sex, Sexual Tension, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 11:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13950453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/their_dark_materials/pseuds/their_dark_materials
Summary: Tip can’t see the Scruffy Man and his companion from where she’s currently tucked away — not that dogs have stellar vision to begin with — but she can hear what she knows to be the Scruffy Man’s voice speaking to someone.“You sure you don’t mind me goin’ for a run?” He sounds hesitant, bordering on reluctant.“‘Course I don’t. It’ll give me some time to finish unpacking, seeing as how we were interrupted yesterday…”Or, Aaron and Robert's first day officially living together again, as told from Tip the Dog's point of view. [Post-Reunion 2018]





	she hid around corners and she hid under beds

The dog is bored. She’s spent the last half hour chasing back and forth after a tennis ball, and honestly, she’s getting tired of it. And it’s not like either of the three men — well, _two_ men and a boy who is well on his way to becoming one — are making an effort. They’re simply standing around and chatting instead of trying to give chase or run after her.

 _Seriously._ Does she have to do _all_ the work around here?

Because there’s a particularly sneaky-looking squirrel that’s been making eyes at her from a tree over yonder and she’d like nothing more than to go over and do something about it.

Instead, she’s stuck _here_ , trying to get these three humans more engaged in whatever it is she’s supposed to be doing with them, instead of going off and tending to any of her _many_ responsibilities for the day. (And it’s not like they’d miss her _too_ much, seeing as they’re busy keeping _each other_ company.)

She gives it some more thought as she goes to retrieve the ball yet _again_.

The taller, darker skinned man she shares a home with, probably _will_ miss her — though lately he’s seemed more distracted than really invested in their bond, seeing as they hardly ever go on walks together anymore. At first, she’d thought he might have found _another_ dog (though the scent would have given _that_ away), and later, she’d considered the possibility of a _mate_. But her nose had confirmed that it wasn’t _that_ either. Rather, it seems like he’s simply spending all his time at that Sweet Place he goes to _all_ the time — the one he’d taken her to once, only to get mad when she’d tried to pitch in and help with their labeling. (How _else_ are other dogs to know not to mess with their stuff?) It’s a shame because she’s sensed his loneliness on a number of occasions, doing her best to chase it away with a good face lick and a bit of a cuddle — not that it’s been successful at staving away his recurring feelings. She thinks what he _really_ needs is a good scratch behind the ears, and a rub around the belly. That always picks _her_ up.)

But she hasn’t had the time to really arrange for that, having to see to her _many_ duties around this village she’s come to call home. After all, _someone_ needs to protect it from pesky intruders.

Like that squirrel who’s _still_ eyeing her with its beady little eyes.

Okay, so the Tall Man _might_ miss her, but she hardly thinks that’ll be the case with the shorter, older, _extremely_ shouty one. All _he’s_ done since he first showed up is yell orders at her ( _and_ she suspects that he’s also the one behind the Tall Man no longer carrying her up in his arms, her ideal long-distance scouting position). As a result, she doesn’t like him much.

 _You could_ at least _say please_ , she thinks as he barks out yet _another_ command — like _he’s_ the alpha in charge here. _Or show some gratitude._

(But then again, it’s as the saying goes, you can’t teach an old human _any_ manners.)

Still. She’s _trying_ to be kinder to him (more so than he deserves), because she can smell, albeit _faintly_ , the scent of another dog on him, one that loved him enough to brand him as one of its pack, the way all dogs do to the ones they truly care about. It’s the combination of that unique marker, as well as a deep-seated sadness, that first signals that he might have been through that kind of loss. (She suspects that’s why he doesn’t like _her_ much either, something she’d pick up on right away.)

 _It’s funny_ , she thinks as she regards the Very Loud Man while he turns his attention to the other two members of their company, _how human hearts can house hurts as big as dog ones do_.

She still remembers the level of pain and confusion she’d first felt when she’d woken up after falling asleep during a long car ride, only to find herself in the middle of the countryside with no food or water, or most importantly, her _Boy_. She’d waited and _waited_ for him, calling out and attempting to look for him several times, always being careful to never wander _too_ far from where she’d woken up, lest he return. Only he hadn’t. Not like how he’d used to when he was always disappearing every day for _long_ stretches of time to go to that place that always smelled of other children (and books and cement and _outside_ ). After spending her _entire_ life by his side, he simply vanished — as had his mother, their home, and all the things she’d considered _theirs_. Unsure what to do, and still slightly hopeful he’d come back for her, she’d stayed out there by that tree on the side of the road for as long as she could before her hunger and that sense of rugged independence that she’d always been fortunate to possess, had kicked in and led her to start wandering around in search of sustenance, and eventually, shelter.

That’s how she’d wound up here, in this village; having followed first her instincts, then later, her ears and nose towards some rather intriguing smells and sounds.

That, in turn, had led her to the Other Tall Man (the one who first gave her this new name, _Tip_ , though she hardly ever responded to it), the Sneezing Woman, the Very Young Girl (who was her daughter as well as the Tall Man’s), and of course, the Warm, Happy Woman who’d given her a wash and had brushed her fur. (It had been the first time she’d felt like herself in _ages_.)

However recently, her most common human companion is this _new_ Boy, who she accompanies on walks around the village. It’s strange, but in a way he actually reminds her of her _old_ Boy in that she knows he’s too helpless to really take care of himself, so she has to look out for him _quite_ a bit — especially seeing as how lately he’s _always_ trying to mate with older, much _stronger_ females, who he simply would _not_ be able to handle. So, she’s taken it upon herself to try and make him stronger and fitter than he currently is, just another task on her daily list of errands, including scaring off unwanted vermin, ensuring the local wildlife is running smoothly, inspecting any suspicious smells that might emerge, etc..

Lucky for both of them, her training seems to be working, as he’s begun taking some initiative. Sometimes he brings along toys for them to play with — which she _really_ appreciates because she’s been running out of things to use to keep him busy — and other times, he brings along a taller, scruffier man. The dog _loves_ those days because the Scruffy Man’s presence usually means they get to _run_. And if there’s one thing she is, it’s an _excellent_ runner. Even her old Boy and his Mum used to say so.

But in general, she’s quite fond of this older man, who she senses might be a kindred spirit of sorts. The first time she’d met him, he’d had this scent about him like he’d just lost _his_ Boy and was quite sad about it. But it was very different from the Very Loud Man’s sadness, in that the smell of his Boy was still very much on him, indicating that he was still alive, even if their relationship was not. And while she hasn’t _officially_ met the Scruffy Man’s Boy,she and this new Boy had encountered him a few times — where she’d discovered he was more of a _Man_ — around the village, and each time she’d noted he’d smelled very sad, and very, _very_ lonely. Enough so to give the Tall Man a run for his money.

She’s about to bound forward and retrieve the ball, when she stops short a few feet away, noting all the shattered glass surrounding it. She’s encountered something like this before, when she’d been living with the _first_ Boy. He’d done something that had resulted in a loud crash, followed by pieces of the same substance, only he’d blamed _her_ for it, something his mother hadn’t entirely believed but had still punished the dog for _anyway_. Of course, she’d _gladly_ taken the blame, if only because she didn’t like it when the Boy got in trouble because it meant they’d be separated and couldn’t play together, which only hurt her more.

This settles it then. She’s going _nowhere_ near this stuff.

And she’s certainly _not_ waiting around. 

She gives two short barks, signaling that any of the two men or the Boy should come over and retrieve the ball, while _she_ goes after that nosy squirrel — and maybe investigates that weird smell that seems to be emanating from the other side of the village. (She’s _well_ behind schedule and she’d rather get this over with sooner, rather than later. Safety _is_ paramount when dealing with shifty little monsters like this.) So she gives another quick bark letting them know of her intentions as she changes directions towards the squirrel.

 _Honestly_ , these humans would be _lost_ without her.

:::::

The squirrel eventually retreats into the surrounding trees (clearly sensing what was good for it) and the smell turns out to be nothing more than some new kind of manure that the Vegetable Man is trying out in his garden. The dog wants to tell him how truly terrible it smells — and she should know, her olfactory sensors are much, _much_ more sensitive than his. (How humans live with that kind of almost-complete nasal _blindness_ is beyond her.)

But thankfully, he seems more than aware of the problem. Especially after the Nice Smelling Woman he’s always with informs him in _very_ loud and _very_ public terms to choose between living with her or his vegetable garden. (The dog would feel bad for him, but it’s how her own mother used to discipline her and her littermates. No one was spared from one of her nips because of the presence of the others.)

Having finished with her errands early, she decides to take her time before heading back to check on the men and the Boy. After all, it’ll be good for them to develop _some_ kind of independence apart from her since she can’t always be with them to take care of them like this.

It’s during this little detour that she finds herself outside what is clearly the Boy’s home. (She can tell because his is one of the many scent markers found all over the house.)

Only now, there’s a new development — and it’s one neither she nor her sharper-than-ever nose was expecting.

It’s a _new_ scent. One that wasn’t here before (she’d have noticed, they’ve run by plenty of times.). And the _entire_ structure seems coated in it.

… _The Lonely Man?_

Judging by the information she’s getting in this new smell, this is now _his_ home as well — or rather, _once again_.

And so it’s decided. She _must_ investigate.

:::::

The first hurdle is actually gaining access to this _huge_ home.

 _How do you build a house and_ not _include a dog door?_ The dog wonders, a little annoyed at the lack of consideration, and more than frustrated at her own personal lack of height, _or_ functional hands. (It’s one of the _few_ advantages human beings have over her and the rest of canine kind.)

Fortunately for her, the front door swings open a few minutes after she approaches it, to reveal the Scruffy Man, who looks like he’s going out for a run. Despite hiding behind a bush, the dog is tempted to join him, but instead, she forces herself to focus, waiting for to see what he’ll do next. And sure enough, he pauses in the doorway like she’d hoped. He seems to be thinking about something, which then causes him to turn around and head back inside, thankfully leaving the door _wide_ open behind him.

The dog immediately springs into action, scrambling to get through it, and managing to get through the unexpected _second_ and _third_ doors as well.

 _How do humans even live like this?_ She wonders as she charges through the closing gap as the final door moves to swing shut, her little legs carrying her as fast as they can go. (She’s never been so grateful for all those times she’s taken the new Boy running with her.)

Once inside, she’s greeted by what is an utter smorgasbord of smells, the strongest of which is _recently fried bacon_. She almost lets out an excited yip requesting some, but then she remembers where she is _just_ in time. So she keeps her mouth shut, opting to hide behind a nearby sofa instead — at least until she gets her bearings and scopes out the situation. The bacon isn’t the _only_ thing throwing her off. This entire space is full of objects and items she wants to run over to and inspect, but that would only result in her giving herself away _before_ she can get any answers. (She’s learned the hard way that humans aren’t always the best at welcoming strange dogs into their spaces. Even if _they_ were the ones that brought them there in the first place.)

While she can’t see the Scruffy Man and his companion from where she’s currently tucked away — not that dogs have stellar vision to begin with — she _can_ hear what she knows to be the Scruffy Man’s voice speaking to someone…

“You sure you don’t mind me goin’ for a run?” He sounds hesitant, bordering on reluctant.

“‘Course I don’t. It’ll give me some time to finish unpacking, seeing as how we were _interrupted_ yesterday…” This voice is a lot less gruff, and a lot more smooth, and full of affection for the Scruffy Man. “ _And_ I can begin getting tea started.”

… _The Lonely Man._

“Alright…” the Scruffy Man says again. “It’s just, I don’t want to waste your _whole_ day off.”

“Well, after this morning, it’s already been _more_ than worth it,” the Lonely Man pauses, a cheeky smile apparent in his voice. “Besides, it’ll be good for you to work up a sweat some _other_ way. I’ve been looking forward to re-christening that _shower_.”

The Scruffy Man lets out a laugh, a low rumbling sound that tickles the dog’s ears. He punctuates it with the words, “You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to _you_ ,” the Lonely Man replies.

“Mmm. I think you’ve forgotten that I’ve seen ya _dance_ ,” the Scruffy Man responds. “Trust me. You’re a bit of an idiot _all_ the time.”

The Lonely Man seems to laugh at this, but that stops to be replaced with the sound of a quick kiss, followed by a slower, much longer one.

A few seconds later the Scruffy Man says, “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

The front door opens and shuts, but the Lonely Man doesn’t appear to shift from his spot, almost like he’s going to stare at the door and wait — which the dog kind of appreciates, because it’s something _she_ would do too (and has done for her _old_ Boy several times.

She preoccupies herself with trying to identify all the smells around her instead.

:::::

Five minutes later, the Lonely Man finally gets to his feet and the room is filled with a loud kind of music that is unlike what the new Boy and the Tall Man listen to when the dog’s with them. This particular kind is bouncy with an infectious beat and words sung by some energetic young woman — and as of now, the Lonely Man has begun humming along to it, occasionally singing an entire line along with her, before returning to simply humming again. (She’s pleasantly surprised to find that her ears don’t hurt the way it does with other kinds of music. If anything, the Lonely Man really does have a nice singing voice — which the new Boy markedly _doesn’t_.)

After a little more waiting, the dog sneaks out from her hiding place, to see that he’s at the far end of the room, near where the smell of bacon had originated from. And thankfully, his attention is diverted elsewhere.

She seizes this opportunity to head to the coffee table, and get a good sniff of everything that’s in the nearby area, so as to better trace where all the smells she _had_ identified had come from. Within seconds, her senses are flooded with all this extra sensory knowledge.

For example, the seat to her right is where the Boy usually sits. And the long sofa right in front of her is shared by the Scruffy Man and the Lonely Man, often sitting close together, their hands either locked tight together or the Lonely Man’s hand on the Scruffy Man’s knee, rubbing it every now and then like it’s charm for comfort. Beside them sits the Girl, who the dog has sometimes taken on walks along with the Boy. (She’s still not _entirely_ sure if they’re littermates, but they do share a lot of similar scents, including each other’s, the Scruffy Man’s and that of this house. She won’t be surprised if soon they start smelling of the Lonely Man too. She can already sense his scent slowly fusing into theirs.)

The interesting thing about his smell, as the dog is quickly learning, is that not only is it all over the room, a direct result of some of his belongings being introduced to and casually placed all over this space, but it doesn’t manage to overpower it. Instead, it seems to compliment, if not accentuate all the other smells that seem to intermingle in the air, creating an interesting blend that she quite likes.

 _Home_.

Take, for instance, the book on the short table in front of her. It smells of the Lonely Man. But the strange objects beside it smell of the Scruffy Man, the Girl,  _and_ the Boy, as if they’ve all been alternating possession of it, taking turns to use them two at a time (kind of like she made the two men and Boy do with her beloved tennis ball).

The dog feels a sense of pride at seeing her lessons on sharing in action every when she’s not around. Maybe there’s hope for the Boy ( _and_ the Tall Man and the Very Loud Man), yet. Especially since she’s sometimes not even sure if he’s really even listening to her.

Finished with this space (for now) she inches her way closer to the Lonely Man, slowly making her way to what appears to be a very large table that somewhat smells of bacon. Here, she gets another round of smell-induced memories. This time she sees all four people seated around this big, tall circle, as recently as the day before. Only now there’s food involved — she’d wager _chicken_ — and they’re talking and joking amongst themselves in quite a happy manner.

 _Family_.

In fact, the memory seems to confirm something she’d somewhat guessed about the Lonely Man: he sees himself as this little pack’s provider, at least in terms of food. Not only was he responsible for yesterday’s chicken and today’s bacon, but she can also smell his desire to feed and take care of the Scruffy Man, the Girl, and even the Boy radiating off almost every object he seems to have touched in here. The dog finds herself relating to the sentiment. She too would want to take as good care of her pack as possible. (Or at least she’d done her best to do so until they’d been separated.) 

She’s about to show her support and commend him for his efforts when the Lonely Man stops moving along to the music and humming as he’d been doing and lets out a moan. Based on the brief sound of running water she’d heard a minute ago (hidden under the strains of yet another perky tune from the same singer), it would appear that the tall human has gotten some water on himself over the course of whatever he was attempting to do in that corner. (She suspects it’s that thing where perfectly delicious smelling plates suddenly lose all their nice and interesting scents.) She’s proven correct when he turns around. She’d suggest he simply shake it off, but seeing as that’s not a thing humans can really do, he goes off to change his clothes (something the old Boy’s Mother used to make _him_ do as well).

The dog immediately gets to work trying to sniff out whether there’s any more bacon left in the area (she knows for a fact that the Boy is a messy eater, even for a human), giving thanks for the fact that she never has to deal with this sort of thing. Imagine having to _change your fur_ on a _daily_ basis.

_No, thank you._

:::::

Having come up empty in her search for bacon — which had come to a close after the Lonely Man’s return to finish whatever he’d been doing — she’d turned her attention to the other part of the room, namely that big metal staircase that’s standing there (the same one he’d gone up and come down from). Following some intense sniffing, she deduces that it leads to a whole _other_ area, this one _also_ inhabited by both men, as well as the Girl, and to some extent, the Boy.

It’s in the middle of this little investigation that the Scruffy Man returns, his footsteps and the smell of sweat giving him away before he opens the door, and allowingthe dog enough time to scrambles behind the stairs for cover (beside what appears to be some kind of white, wheeled machine she’s only ever seen on roads), granting herself the perfect vantage point for any future proceedings. Not that he or the Lonely Man — who’s once again humming along to his music — really notice. 

Instead, it seems like the Scruffy Man is quite distracted by the sight (and sound) that he is greeted with. To be fair, he has a good reason. Whatever the Lonely Man is currently wearing has the Scruffy Man’s scent all over it, resulting in a pleasant blend of _both_ their scents. (The dog really _is_ impressed with how nice a smelling couple they are.)

“I’m thinkin’ we need to have a talk about your music tastes,” the Scruffy Man states, standing by the stairs, his hands on his hips, as sweat slowly drips down his brow. And then, softer, and a little surprised, “Is that my hoodie?”

The music grows softer, but doesn’t come to a close.

“Uh yeah, got my shirt wet earlier. Thought this would make a nice surprise…” the Lonely Man replies as he turns to face. She notices he doesn’t say anything about the way he’d sniffed at it as he’d come down the stairs, a slight smile on his face the entire time.“Especially since we have more important things to discuss than _my_ music tastes.”

Any soft background beats are cut by a loud unzipping noise, the high-pitched, whirring buzz grating on the dog’s ears for the few seconds it happens.

He slowly takes off and then _drops_ the article of clothing onto the floor; the sound of thick fabric hitting the ground, followed a half-second later by a small piece of metal skittering across the tile.

If the Scruffy Man minds this treatment of his belongings he doesn’t say — not that she thinks he would be able to, considering the scent he’s currently giving off indicates that he’s _more_ than a little aroused by that display. And it’s obvious to see why: the Lonely Man is currently without a shirt. Instead, his hands are slowly moving to his waist as he begins to undo the collar humans sometimes wear around their waist to keep their clothes up.

A few seconds later, and her ears are filled with the sound of leather hitting the ground, with a much heavier piece of metal clattering across it. She flinches at the mere sound of _that_. 

“Thought I’d get a bit of a headstart,” the Lonely Man explains, a seductive tone entering his voice. (The dog recognises it as the human version of sniffing each other by the butt. _Foreplay_.)

“Upstairs. _Now_.”

The command the Scruffy Man issues is so strong that the dog feels it in her bones. She inches closer to see what will happen next.

She doesn’t have to wait long as the Lonely Man acts on it immediately, bending over to pick up the two items he’d dropped onto the ground (while ensuring his partner gets a _good_ look at all his muscles in action) and then  making his way closer to the Scruffy Man and the staircase he’s standing by, only to pause when he’s _extremely_ close to the other man — all while looking him straight in the eyes — before brushing past him slowly and deliberately, as he makes his way up the stairs on his left.

Based on the rapid beating of the Scruffy Man’s heart and the way he’s watching the Lonely Man’s ascent, it’s clear that he needs a moment to catch his breath. And then, just like that, he’s hastily stomping after his partner, each step causing the metal below his feet to reverberate even more.

The dog doesn’t need her senses to tell her what both men will be getting up to next. She can hear the beginnings of it all the way from down here. (Not that she minds, she’s had a few loud encounters of her own.) 

She decides to take this opportunity to go hunting for a snack — or at least a suitable chew toy.

_Don’t want to intrude._

:::::

She’s settled behind one of the smaller sofas, gnawing her way through one of the Boy’s sneakers that she’d found wedged under the largest one, when both men finally make their way downstairs, bringing with them a change in smells _and_ chemistry. Both of them now more happy and relaxed than she’s ever seen them. (They also smell cleaner, and of the same expensive-smelling soap.)

“You sure you don’t want to go into the office?” The Scruffy Man asks as he trails after the Lonely Man, his steps more languid and carefree. The soft fabric of his grey pants swishing around his feet.

“I told you, I’m good. I took the day off so I could spend it with _you_ ,” the Lonely Man remarks, sinking into his seat on the sofa. “You know, a second ago you didn’t want to go on your run. And now you’re ready for me to get back to work already? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just using me for _sex_.”

She can’t see the Scruffy Man’s face — he’s still standing, towering over his mate — but she can sense one of those warm flushes that humans sometimes get when confronted with something (usually the truth) coming over him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he responds gruffly, even though it’s clearly the opposite of what he feels. There’s some noise as he moves to sit beside the Lonely Man, leaving barely any space between them. “It’s just I _know_ Jimmy’s not been makin’ it easy for ya. I don’t want you losin’ out on any business ‘cause of me. You’ve got Seb to worry about as well now. You’re providing for his future.”

His words cause some kind of shift within the Lonely Man because the dog can sense a kind of warm openness spread over him — like when she encounters a young pup. Or finds the new Boy all helpless in yet _another_ situation of his own making. (Like the time he’d gotten himself caught in the barbed wire surrounding the Vegetable Man’s garden because he hadn’t listened to her barked out warning on their previous day’s walk.)

“First of all, he's Jimmy, so _of course_ he isn’t any help,” the Lonely Man says quietly, though it’s more than loud enough for her ears, even with the music still playing (though the tunes flowing through the room are a whole lot slower and much, much more mellow). “Second of all, I’m providing for all of _our_ futures. You, me, Liv, _and_ Gerry.”

He lets out a slow breath before continuing. “But some things are a little more important than clients and money. Like spending time together, just _the two of us_ , in our home… I learned that the hard way last time. And I’m _not_ making that mistake again.”

She stops gnawing for a second, to really soak up the waves of pleasure that are coming off the Scruffy Man right now. It fills her nostrils and causes her hair to stand on end and her tail to wag furiously.

A few seconds later, the dog hears (more than sees) the Scruffy Man lean forward to kiss the Lonely Man. Only this one isn’t filled with any hunger or want — but rather _love_.

Turning her attention to the other man, she can tell that he wants more, his blood is practically singing with his hunger for it. But he doesn’t give the Scruffy Man any indication of that, letting the softness of this moment linger between them instead. (She almost misses it, but there's a current of pleasure running through him at the thought of making this other man as happy as he just has. She’s pretty sure that if _he_ had a tail, he’d be wagging it too right now.)

“Fancy catchin’ up on some telly?” The Lonely Man asks after they pull apart and he clears his throat. “Vic’s not really a big fan of _Game of Thrones_.”

"Actually, Liv and I kind of finished it already," the Scruffy Man clears his throat, as his body is filled with another flush, this one coming from nervousness. " _But_ I wouldn't mind watching it again."

"You sure? I can always just catch up on my own." Now it's the Lonely Man's turn to be nervous. Not wanting to force the younger man to do something he might not want to.

"Robert. It’s _fine_ ," the Scruffy Man replies. "I kind of missed hearing ya prattle on about all that boring book stuff and ‘how important’ it all is."

This time the waves of happiness filling the room belong to the other man. She can practically see his imaginary tail motion _already_.

“That’s because it is, _important_ ,” the Lonely Man murmurs, though he doesn’t sound _too_ upset. “If Jon Snow really _is_ Azor Azhai, it could be a _real_ gamechanger.“

“You know. I forgot how big of a _nerd_ you are- _Hey!_ ” The Scruffy Man teases — only to be cut off by the sound of his own raspy laughter as it fills the room.

The dog perks up, jumping to her feet as her tail continues to wag frantically. She watches, curious as ever, as the Scruffy Man flails away from the Lonely Man, who _appears_ to be scratching him around the waist? Only it seems to be making the younger man squirm and laugh more than it is bringing him a low buzz of pleasure the way a belly scratching _should_.

“I take it back, Robert. _I take it back_!” The Scruffy Man exclaims between wheezes. “You’re not _a_ nerd! _You’re not a nerd!_ ”

The Lonely Man does stop, watching carefully as the Scruffy Man just lays on his side, gasping for breath (while still laughing). When he does finally manage to calm down and sit back up, still panting slightly, he adds, “You’re a _geek_.”

This time the Scruffy Man’s prepared for the Lonely Man’s finger-based assault, managing to hold him at bay (even amidst brief bursts of laughter) before he lets himself fall to his side on the couch (again) only now with the Lonely Man almost straddling him.

The older man stops moving — in turn, causing his partner to still — and instead leans forward to kiss the Scruffy Man.

“I love you,” he whispers, after pulling away.

The Scruffy Man responds by kissing him back.

Curiosity sated, the dog turns her attention to the Boy’s _other_ shoe.

 _Don’t want him to develop a_ weirder _walk_.

:::::

It seems like they’ve _barely_ begun watching television when the room’s atmosphere slowly starts to shift again, becoming more heated by the second as the Scruffy Man seems to be _nipping_ at the Lonely Man, who’s been letting out a series of soft moans in response.

Once again, the dog is hidden behind a sofa, which she’s grateful for because she doesn’t want to intrude on either man’s privacy during this time. (She knows plenty of _other_ dogs who don’t have qualms about straight up watching, but she always feels a little self-conscious. Fighting your own animal instinct is _hard_ — not that these barely grown pups really _try_. If so, they wouldn’t be mating with _quite_ this much frequency.) 

At first, it starts out like a game, a way of trying to distract the Lonely Man as he tries to focus on what's happening on the screen in front of them so he can explain whatever he’s watching to the man next to him, but as the Scruffy Man soon discovers, it doesn't take a lot to capture the older man’s attention — at least when it comes to expressing his physical affections for the Scruffy Man. Eventually, he just pauses whatever’s happening on screen and focuses his full attention on his younger partner.

Within moments of that display of sexual interest, both men break apart, eager to remove any layers that could get in the way of their pleasuring the other, (especially their pants and underwear, both of which are a source of some frustration for either man as their lust for each other continues to rapidly grow). They resume kissing with a renewed fervor, displaying a kind of single-minded focus on each other's pleasure in a way that she finds quite admirable. Now the Scruffy Man’s moans have joined the noise landscape enveloping the room.

 _That_ is soon followed by the sound of both men rhythmically moving against the sofa’s leather, their breathing becoming more and more ragged as the Lonely Man even groans, “Yes… Come on… _Aaron_ …”

Based on the strength of the pheromones he's emitting now and the beating of his heart, she can tell the intense feeling of pleasure he's anticipating is _just_ on the horizon, mere minutes away. (Not that he's capable of _any_ patience right now.)

In her excitement for them, she accidentally lets out a small bark.

“Did you hear something?” The Lonely Man asks suddenly. All movement in the room ceasing as he stops whatever he was doing a second earlier, leaving only his and the Scruffy Man’s ragged breaths.

There’s a burst of tense frustration as the Scruffy Man utters through gritted teeth, “For _fuck_ ’s sake Robert, _keep_ _goin’_.”

Embarrassed for having interrupted, the dog buries her ears under her paws as best she can as the noises pick up.

:::::

Much like with dogs, it would appear that mating amongst humans builds up an appetite. And because the Lonely Man is a good and dedicated provider, he’s back in the kitchen, ensuring that he and the Scruffy Man are fed, thus replenishing all their spent energy. (They'd both passionately continued for _another_ round almost _immediately_ after the first one ended — switching positions this time — almost as if they were making up for lost time. Not that _she’s_ one to judge.)

She trots closer to the kitchen, still managing to keep herself hidden, as she works to identify what it is the Lonely Man might be preparing. All evidence so far points toward it being _beef_. Not her favourite, but still pretty delicious.

It's during this that she gets another peek at the Scruffy Man who actually reminds the dog of _herself_ , as he sits at that same tall table, simply staring at the Lonely Man as he works. But there’s no sense of hunger coming off him (not even for the food that’s being prepared). Just more of that pure, unfiltered affection from earlier, like what she feels for the Tall Man and sometimes, the new Boy, on occasion. (If she’s _really_ being honest, she feels it for the Scruffy Man too, but she has no real explanation for that, other than the fact that she just _likes_ him for some reason.)

She’s sure if _this_ man could, he’d be busy licking his partner face right now. Not that he physically _can’t_ , it’s just that she never sees humans actually indulge in this kind of behaviour, even though it's  _perfectly_ normal. 

But as she focuses on him now, she notices that there seems to be a slight change now, in that he's no longer wearing the soft clothing he'd had on earlier. Instead, his black hoodie, black t-shirt, and grey pants have found their way onto the _Lonely Man's_ person, while the Scruffy Man is all decked out in other man's blue shirt, and blue jeans — once again causing their personal smells to blend together.

The Scruffy Man shifts a little in his seat. "Don't know how you get anythin’ done in this. Don't ya arms feel tight?"

"Don't know why you're complaining, _you’re_ the one who stole _my shirt_ ," The Lonely Man argues back. "And maybe you should’ve thought about that _before_ you started all that boxing."

He stops what he's doing to roll up one of the hoodie's loose sleeves. "But I can see why _you_ love making toast so much. I’ve spent more time rolling my sleeves than I have actually cooking."

"Hardy. Har. Har." The Scruffy Man replies, but there's no actual laughter in his voice. "And I thought you said you liked all my ‘new muscles’."

"Yeah. I do. Just not when they're threatening to hulk out one of my favourite shirts," the Lonely Man teases.

"Then you'll just have to come get it off me, won't ya, _Mr. Dingle_?" The Scruffy Man asks, letting his voice grow rough, his tone dropping low.

That definitely gets the Lonely Man's attention, as he stops chopping and turns around to face the other man giving him a slow look from top to bottom, and then back up to his face again. She can smell his indecision regarding whether to take the other man up on his offer either now or later.

Following a hard-won mental battle, he replies, “Maybe a little _later_ , Mr. Sugden.”

The Scruffy Man lets out a disappointed and indignant, “ _Oh._ So _now_ you wanna wait? Where was _that_ this morning when I had to get Liv to school?”

The Lonely Man chuckles, “What? You _know_ I’m more than willing to risk a torn shirt if it means I get to look at you dressed like _that_ a little longer.”

Despite his partner’s attention being elsewhere, the Scruffy Man’s entire body is emitting another pleased full body flush. “ _Idiot_.”

Not that the dog is focused on them anymore, she’s just spotted some pieces of chopped carrot that had fallen to the ground when the Lonely Man had turned.

She crouches in anticipation.

:::::

It’s not until the meat is in the oven and some other dish is being cooked on the stove that she gets an opportunity to go after her target.

The Lonely Man receives a phone call, that the Scruffy Man finally persuades him to take. In doing so, he heads upstairs, his tone of voice alternating between soft and placating and loud and frustrated.

In his absence, the Scruffy Man immediately turns to some kind of plastic device they have perched on the counter and starts fiddling with it, his entire attention now focused on his attempts to change the music, rather than watching the food the Lonely Man left in his care. (Not that the dog minds, this gives her the perfect opportunity to grab those pieces of fallen carrot and return to her hiding spot.)

She’s tucked safely behind the stairs once more when the Scruffy Man gives up, sighs in frustration, and just settles on the bouncy music from earlier. He’s in the middle of giving the dish on the stove another stir — thankfully nothing’s burning — when the front door opens, revealing…

 _The Girl_.

Almost instantly, the youngster goes from happy to _confused_.

“Is this the right house, or did you and Robert _finally_ fuse into the _same_ person?

Her words make the Scruffy Man jump, not having been blessed with the gifts that are canine hearing and smell.

 _Bet you’d exchange all your_ doors _for that._

“ _Very funny_. But I’m just borrowing his clothes for the afternoon,” the Scruffy Man is doing his best to hide it, but the dog can tell he’s got another flush coming on — this one from embarrassment.

“Ugh. I forgot what kind of loved up idiots you two can be,” the girl _sounds_ like she’s against whatever’s happening, but the dog can tell that she’s anything but. If anything, she’s trying _not_ to burst in excitement at the sight of the Scruffy Man looking so happy and relaxed.

For his part, the older man quickly deflects, asking, “Can you come taste this? I’m not quite sure it’s done yet.”

“Wait, if _you’re_ cooking, I should probably be calling and ordering a takeaway right now,” the Girl says, despite stepping forward to see what’s on the stove. As she gets a whiff of it, she adds, “Hold on. That actually smells good. Are you sure you didn’t just steal Robert’s _clothes_?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s _upstairs_ on a call,” the Scruffy Man explains as he rolls his eyes. “Now you going to try this or what?”

The Girl leans forward and tries some of what he’s holding out on a spoon. “Mmm. Yeah. That’s really delicious.”

“ _Perfect_ ,” the Scruffy Man says, a wave of relief passing through him as he turns off the stove. “According to Robert, roast’s almost done, and he should be wrapping up soon. So if you want, you can go get changed for tea.”

The Girl doesn’t move, just stands there and watches the Scruffy Man as he covers the pot in front of him.

“What?” He asks, when he notices her attention on him.

“It’s weird seein’ ya dressed like _that_ ,” she tells him, cocking her head to the side. “Makes me feel like maybe I should be asking you for help with my Maths homework.”

“No. God. Please don’t,” the Scruffy Man reacts almost immediately. 

They both laugh at that, a wave of fondness passing between them. Suddenly the dog gets it. It’s _these_ two who are littermates. _Not_ her and the Boy.

 _Interesting_.

“You look happy,” the Girl says quietly, though the dog’s ears don’t have much of a problem hearing her over the music. “ _Really_ happy. Like happier than you were with _Alex_.”

There’s a brief burst of regret from the Scruffy Man, but it’s replaced by that feeling of boundless joy he’s been emitting on and off all day.

“That’s ‘cause I _am_ ,” the Scruffy Man responds, giving her a soft smile. “Robert, he’s…”

He lets out a sigh followed by a shrug. “I _love_ him, Liv. And all _this_ , it just feels _right_. More right than Alex _ever_ did.”

The Girl nods at that. “Yeah, I get that now.”

She takes a deep breath in, before giving the Scruffy Man a small smile, “You. Him. _This_. It feels nice. It kind of feels like we’re… you know… a proper _family_ again.” 

“That’s because we _are_ ,” he tells her, pulling her in for a hug. The warmth between them stretches all the way out to where the dog is laying, having decided to a break between her first carrot piece and the second. “Now go upstairs and get changed. We’ll be eating soon.”

“Yeah yeah, heard ya the first time,” the Girl tells him fondly as she pulls out of their mutual embrace and gathers her things to head upstairs.

The Scruffy Man just shakes his head and turns to the stove in front of him.

“Now where are those _mitts_?”

The dog decides it’s time for her second piece of carrot.

:::::

She’s laying there, letting the delicious smell of roasting meat (and whatever that green vegetable in that pan is) wash over her, when she smells (and hears) the Lonely Man descend down the stairs.

And just like before, the Scruffy Man doesn’t. Mostly because he’s standing over the stove and spooning what’s in the pot into another dish — all while humming along to the song that’s currently playing. At one point he accidentally drops a piece of vegetable onto the stove, only to quickly pick it up and pop it into his mouth, nodding and letting out a groan of appreciation after he tastes it. (The dog lets out a jealous ruffle at that missed opportunity.)

The sight of him causes the Lonely Man to pause when he gets to the final step, simply standing there and watching the Scruffy Man work.

Eventually, he gets tired of just staying silent, the Loud Man speaks, amusement in his voice, “ _See_ , I _told you_ you’d like her music eventually.”

The Scruffy Man doesn’t jump visibly the way he had with the Girl, though the dog does hear his heart rate speed up a little, as his shoulder muscles tense.

"You playin' it all the time and gettin' the radio stuck on this channel isn’t me likin’ it," the Scruffy Man replies grouchily in order to hide the wave of warm embarrassment passing through him, as he attempts to calm down.

Neither of say anything for the next few seconds, with the Lonely Man, returning to simply watching the other man.

"I _can_ feel ya starin' at my bum, ya know," the Scruffy Man calls out a moment later. The dog can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious.

"Just admiring my handiwork," the Lonely Man replies, sounding pleased. "Need to get you in fitted jeans more often."

The Scruffy Man doesn't say anything, but that his entire body is flushed with pleasure. “Yeah, but then what would _you_ wear?”

“Preferably, _nothing_ ,” the Lonely Man says, as he finally starts moving again, walking towards the Scruffy Man and the stove. The other man sort of angles himself to welcome him in response, as they once again make eye contact.

Only instead of going in for a kiss as expected, the Lonely Man bends over and looks into the oven. “Smells like tea’s ready.”

The dog doesn’t need to look up know that this little manoeuvre has disappointed the Scruffy Man.

When the Lonely Man eventually does stand up — really having checked on the meat — there’s a big grin on his face as he emits nothing but pride. Unfortunately, he’s met with a less than impressed expression. “Enjoy your roast then.”

He picks up the dish and attempts to walk past the Lonely Man, but the other man just steps into his path, his hands coming out in front of him to take the bowl of green vegetable from the Scruffy Man.

When the younger man looks up at him with the same look on his face as before, the taller man replies, “Thought we could start with a little taste of _dessert_.”

At that, the Scruffy Man rolls his eyes before grudgingly allowing the Lonely Man to kiss him — though it’s clear from the scent that he’s giving off, and his slight increase in heart rate, that he actually _wants_ this kiss. And the Lonely Man seems to know that, because he’s really taking his time, even with a dish that must be getting heavier and hotter by the minute, in _both_ their hands. 

When he finally does pull away, the Scruffy Man gives him a small smile. “Now no more. Don’t want to spoil your appetite.”

The Lonely Man nips back for another quick kiss, just as the Girl begins approaching the top of the stairs, her smell and footsteps preceding her to the dog’s senses. She looks up to see that the Girl’s wearing different clothes, ones that look similar to the Scruffy Man’s, but smell entirely of her.

Much like the Lonely Man, she pauses on the final step too, surprise radiating off of her.

“Okay, did you lose a bet or something?” She asks, looking ahead at both of them as they still stand close together, even if there is a little more space between them since the Lonely Man let go and stepped back. “This whole switched outfit thing. It’s like you’ve been abducted by _aliens_.”

“I told ya,” the Scruffy Man says, turning towards her as he lays plates on the very tall table. “I decided to surprise him. Turns out _he_ wanted to do the same as well.”

Just as she’d been able to with the _old_ Boy’s mother, she can tell the Girl doesn’t buy one word of what the Scruffy Man’s saying. But it doesn’t stop her from shaking her head and saying, “I forgot how _weird_ you two could be.”

“Speaking of weird, would aliens even know to make your favourite roast beef for tea?” The Lonely Man asks as he opens the oven. 

The room is suddenly filled with a burst of steam, the smell of the perfectly roasted meat getting even stronger now. The dog finds herself drooling a little, unable to resist the scent flooding her little nostrils. The dog has to _fight_ the urge to ask for some, clamping her mouth shut so she doesn’t even risk a tiny yelp. 

“Yeah, if they know what’s good for them,” the Girl replies, slowly heading towards both of them.

Just then her phone vibrates, the buzz fairly loud to the dog’s ears. The Girl reaches into her pocket and fishes it out. She reads what it says, and sighs.

“What’s the matter?” The Scruffy Man asks, looking up at her from where he’s now seated.

“It’s Gerry,” the Girl tells them. “He’s lost Tip again. He’s asking if I can help her search for him.”

The dog’s ears perk up at the sound of her new name. It would appear that the new Boy might be in trouble, or simply in need of her assistance. (Knowing him though, it’s probably the former. She wouldn’t be surprised if she found him trapped at the bottom of a well one of these days.)

“Tell him that you’re having your tea and that you’ll come help him later,” the Lonely Man tells her, his tone firm and insistent. He brings the tray of meat over to the table.

She nods and quickly types something back.

A few seconds later her phone buzzes again…

… and again.

… _and again._

The Girl looks at it what it says and looks back up at both men. “He’s _really_ desperate.”

The Scruffy Man and the Lonely Man look at each other as her phone buzzes yet _again_.

“Well, she _is_ kind of small,” the Scruffy Man tells the Lonely Man with a shrug. “Who knows what trouble she could get up to?”

The dog bristles at that description — she’s _perfectly_ average for breed, thank you very much. As for trouble, she’s the one keeping the _rest_ of the village out of it. _If only he knew_.

But even that brief bit of annoyance fades when she looks over at the Scruffy Man. She can tell he’s concerned for her, and she appreciates it. She’d express her gratitude, but it’s a bit rude to reveal that you’ve been hiding away in someone’s house after you’ve been there as long as she has.

The Lonely Man looks down at the meat he’s _just_ placed on the table and sighs. “I _guess_ this’ll have to keep while we’re out.”

“While _we’re_ out?” The Girl immediately picks up on what he’s said, her brow furrowing in confusion. Based on the Scruffy Man’s reaction, he’s a little surprised by his partner’s words as well as well.

“Yeah,” the Lonely Man says with a shrug. “I made this for _all_ of us to enjoy, _together_. Wouldn’t be fun to have it without _all_ of us present. Might as well just wait. Even if it _is_ going get a bit rubbery.”

A mixture of happiness _and_ pride is coming from the Scruffy Man in waves.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, quick to reassure him. “We’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, Aaron tried to make curry when you were gone,” the Girl tells him with a grin on her face. “It was _rank_. Even Gerry didn’t try to eat it.”

That makes the Lonely Man laugh, but the Scruffy Man shakes his head. “Yeah, well I’m _never_ tryin’ somethin’ like that again. You should have _seen_ the recipe Marlon sent me. I’ve fixed _car engines_ less complicated than that thing.”

The Lonely Man chuckles as he carefully wraps the tray the meat is in, in some kind of shiny covering; taking care to even tuck in the edges before placing the entire dish back in the oven to keep warm. For his part, the Scruffy Man just stares at the bowl of vegetables in front of him, before flipping one of the four plates he’d placed on the table upside down and using _that_ as a lid.

The Girl laughs at this, while the Lonely Man shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh. Not that he moves to change with the Scruffy Man has done.

The younger man is busy shrugging on his coat, when the Girl asks, “Aren’t you going to change your clothes?”

At that, both men kind of look at one another, each giving the other a slow once over.

“I think we’ll keep the surprise going, a _little_ bit longer,” the Lonely Man says, a smile coming over his face as his eyes slowly sweep over his partner. The Scruffy Man just smiles and flushes a nice, deep red.

The Girl shakes her head. “I’ll be outside, when you’re both done _ogling_ each other.”

She opens and steps outside the door, leaving it open behind her. The dog gets to her feet, deciding to use this opportunity to go to the Boy’s rescue. (She’s begun to imagine him being threatened by that suspicious squirrel from earlier. Goodness knows how he would handle _that_ kind of rampant aggression.)

She tries to scope out if the coast is clear and if either the Lonely or the Scruffy Man is paying attention, but they’re currently lost in a world of their own.

“Do you think there’s time for us to…?” The Lonely Man asks, his voice a low murmur, his hands holding either opening of the Scruffy Man’s jacket. “We _could_ always tell Liv we’ll meet her later.”

She can hear the Scruffy Man wavering, but even though she _wants_ to hear his response, she can’t let this opportunity get past her. She runs out that first door, and then the second, and waits by the first, trying to see where the Girl is.

After some frantic hunting — having smelled her before seeing her — the dog spots the Girl at the edge of the driveway, thankfully on the phone with someone. ( _“You want me to bring ya snacks? Gerry, I thought this was a search party. Not a picnic._ ”)

She bounds past her without any incident, slightly sad to leave these humans behind.

_But it doesn’t matter now. The Boy needs me._

:::::

When she _does_ find the Boy, he’s attempting to talk to the Tall Blonde Woman with a slightly higher pitched voice, and he’s attempting to make yet _another_ romantic overture. Relieved he’s safe, the dog decides to leave him be. After all, if she keeps coming to his rescue in occasions like this, he’ll never actually learn that this is a bad idea for someone with his relative inexperience. (Though she _does_ admire his enthusiasm.)

It’s in the middle of watching him that she spots a familiar face — one of the dogs she’d befriended during her brief stay in the country. He’s hanging out near the big house where everyone always seems to go and come out smelling funnier than when they went in. Each time the door opens, _another_ delicious aroma makes its way out.

She barks in greeting and goes over to join him, eager to catch up and see what he’s been up to. (He’d been one of the few creatures who’d had faith that she’d be fine on her own, even teaching her a few of his own survival tricks to ensure that she’d be. She really owes him one.)

 _Come with me! I have_ so _much to tell you._

:::::

After what _feels_ like forever — dogs are _terrible_ at telling time — she and this Other Dog finally finish trading stories. Him, about life in the countryside foraging for food and sleeping in barns (something he actually enjoys doing) and her, about this village and all the things she does to care for it and the people who live in it. 

It’s only when it’s much darker, and colder, that she notices how much older and shaggier her friend looks, not having had the benefit of washes and brushes of her fur that she receives on a regular basis — not that _he_ seems to mind.

Seeing as he’s leaving the village the next day, she decides to keep him company for the night, instead of heading home. Not that the Tall Man will really notice. (She really _wasn’t_ joking about how little time they’ve spent together lately.)

That’s when she’s struck by a thought she _knows_ is rude and really unbecoming for a dog like her to have, but there it is, small and blossoming in the corner of her mind, besides the day’s memories. She tries not to give it voice, knowing what it _wants_ , but she can’t help herself. Because a tiny, almost _miniscule_ , part of her that wishes that she were actually in a pack with the Scruffy Man and the Lo-

 _No_. She stops herself before she mentally names the Scruffy Man’s companion. She’s spent most of the day with him, and as she’s seen time and again, this man is hardly _lonely_. At least, not anymore. If anything he’s more content than she could have ever expected after smelling him just one month ago. She’s not even near him, and she can still almost picture his tail wagging happily behind him, every time he so much as _glances_ at the Scruffy Man.

 _The Happy Man_ , she decides, settling on his new name. Because she is yet to meet someone who is happier than she saw him today — except for perhaps, the Scruffy Man. (But there’s no way she’s changing _his_ name. It’s too perfect. And besides, how will they know which of them she’s talking to?)

It’s as she’s standing there, behind a bush, with her friend having dozed off next to her (it’s been a _big_ day for him), that she hears _their_ voices, each getting louder the closer they get.

“Have they found her yet?” The _Happy Man_ asks. He’s walking close to the Scruffy Man, his hands jammed into his jacket pockets, his elbows gently rubbing against the man next to him’s with each long stride he takes.

The Scruffy Man is staring at his phone as he answers, the white light illuminating his face as it remains scrunched up. “No. Liv’s saying they’ve searched everywhere and Gerry’s too nervous to tell Jai he lost her _again_.”

“Should Jai even have a dog if he can’t look after it himself?” The Happy Man asks, his voice getting louder as they come nearer.

“Why? You thinkin’ of gettin’ Seb a new friend?” The Scruffy Man responds, he sounds like he’s joking, but she can tell there’s something _real_ there.

“I don’t know. I never _really_ thought about it. But I guess I always thought that one day, maybe, _we_ , would get one,” The Happy Man says, a gust of wind carrying the scent of the flush that’s currently taken hold of his entire body. “You know, when _we_ had kids and stuff.”

He kind of mumbles the last part, but luckily her ears are sharp and she’s had months of living in the wild, so she knows how to tune out the elements.

“Yeah. Well look at us _now_ ,” the Scruffy Man jokes as he gently nudges his partner. “Got two teenagers _plus_ a baby, and now we’re out here lookin’ for a dog that’s not even ours. Pretty sure not even _Jai’s_ spent this much time lookin’ for her.”

“Is this you saying you want to ask Jai to give _us_ Tip?” The Happy Man asks. She steps forward a little closer, so she can better hear what the Scruffy Man’s going to say.

But just then the wind _really_ picks up and the Scruffy Man yells, “No wonder you’re always _freezin’_! The wind cuts right through this shirt!”

He frowns as he pulls his jacket around him tighter. “Never thought I’d say this, but maybe we should head home. I’m startin’ to feel _cold_.”

He says that last word with some disgust, like it’s something he can’t even fathom. The dog finds herself sharing in his dislike of the wind — especially with it having robbed her of his answer.

But next to him, the Happy Man has another grin on his face. “Looks like _I’ll_ just have to warm you up.”

The Happy Man reaches out and pulls the Scruffy Man to him by the shoulder, his hand slowly rubbing his jacket sleeve back and forth. He gets no resistance, the younger man completely conceding to this contact and partial embrace, even leaning towards him somewhat.

A few seconds later, he finally grumbles, “That the best you can do?”

The older man lowers his voice slightly, but thankfully the wind has died down, which allows the dog to hear him say, “No. You’ll have to wait to get home for that.”

The Scruffy Man stops walking and looks up at the Happy Man, who winds up stopping as well.

Together, they just stand there in the middle of the street, under a street lamp as the Scruffy Man’s gaze searches the Happy Man’s face for what seems like _ever_.

Finally, he says, “Then I guess I’ll just have to… _Race ya!_ ”

And before the dog can realise what’s happened, he’s started sprinting down the street towards their house. When he notices that the Happy Man hasn’t taken up his challenge, he skids to a stop and turns to look at him in askance.

“ _You’re_ the one that goes running every day!” The Happy Man replies, his voice a little louder than usual as he accounts for this newly created distance between them. “And besides, we haven’t really eaten since _breakfast_. You really think _I’ll_ have any energy after a _running race_.”

“You will if we’re havin’ another shower _after_.” The Scruffy Man answers, a cocksure grin on his face.

There’s silence as it appears the Happy Man is genuinely considering this offer. It stretches between them, sinuous and tense all at once. The anticipation for _this_ answer quickly building as their breaths begin to mist in the air in front of them.

A moment later, the silence is replaced by the sound of feet crunching on gravel as the Happy Man _sprints_ past the Scruffy Man, yelling, “See you at home then!”

It takes a few seconds for his stunned partner to react, but when he does, the Scruffy Man lets out a bark of laughter and follows after him. “Not if I get there first!”

 _Take care!_ _Be safe! And watch out for that squirrel!_ The dog barks at them, even though she knows they won’t really hear, _or_ listen to her. Not that it matters, they’ll soon be home anyway, where _they_ belong.

Though even in the distance, she can see (and hear) the Scruffy Man slow down somewhat and look around, almost as if _he_ senses _her_. But then he shakes his head and continues chasing after the Happy Man.

The dog heads back to the bush where her friend is resting, dreams of possibly becoming a member of this _new_ pack quickly spinning through her mind. She settles down next to him, eager to conserve and share their body heat.

The Scruffy Man and the Happy Man don’t know it yet, but they’ve just found themselves a dog. She just needs to get her business with the Tall Man sorted out first.

 _Seriously_. _Do I have to do_ everything _around here?_

**Author's Note:**

> This felt like a crazy idea when I first came up with it a few weeks ago. And if I'm being honest, it still does. But in writing this insane piece, I felt like it gave me a chance to not only have some fun with Tip and Gerry's storyline (which I LOVED), but also explore Robert and Aaron's renewed relationship in a way that is less than traditional. (Also I just really enjoy fics where a third person observes my ship and notices all the little ways in which they work as a couple, and it felt like this was an interesting enough idea to try with Tip, who has all these extra doggie faculties and senses that I could tap into in a way that a human's POV wouldn't offer.) 
> 
> As inspiration for this fic's tone, I used the narrative style of the book 'Pax' by Sarah Pennypacker. If I haven't particularly nailed Tip's dog-like qualities, I apologise. I have limited experience with dogs, never having had the opportunity to have my own. Though I did try and read up on dogs and their habits as much as I could for this. Therefore, any failing on that front is mine. That said, I really hope that Tip's descriptions of things are clear. 
> 
> In addition, I apologise if the writing is rough in certain places, this is the largest thing I've ever written, and the editing of it has been a bit unwieldy in certain places. I also apologise if there's not enough Robert and Aaron in there, I really did my best to balance my crazy premise with their first real day being together. 
> 
> Lastly, this is the first time I've ventured near writing anything about Aaron and Robert's sex life, so I'm definitely nervous about that aspect of this, even though a lot of it is implied. (I at least hope their chemistry comes across.) So if you have any feedback on that, I wouldn't mind hearing it, so I can do any necessary rewrites. If you have any other thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns, don't hesitate to drop me a line below, or find me on Tumblr, under rustandruin.


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